In Loving Memory
by Sailor's Wife
Summary: Hermoine's parents are killed and she barely survives. Being a minor/high priority target she is adopted by an order member. An adoption of blood changes her and awakens new and latent abilities. Snape is tasked with training her to become one of the Order's greatest weapons, but in order to fight for the light, one must embrace the dark. Must tolerate SS/HG and DM/HG pairings.
1. Chapter 1

In Loving Memory:

**A/N: This fic is dedicated to all the fanfic writers out there. You've kept me sane while going through some tough times (fanfic is my anti-anxiety, anti-depressant and drug of choice)**

**I must post the obligatory disclaimer…. I own nothing, not even the toys in this wonderful sandbox are mine, I'm just playing with them and am certainly not making any money on this endeavor.**  
><strong>I could us a Britpicker! I'm an American from the North East and we have our own dialect and confuse fellow American's as it is, so would love the help with not only the British dialect, but also British spelling (I'm told American's are overly fond of z's).<strong>

*****In order to read this story, you should be able to at least tolerate both SS/HG and DM/HG. Just when you think your man has lost the girl…. Keep reading… you just never know.**

…**.**

**I started this the day my Aunt died. My heart was breaking, and so is Hermione's…**

… 

It was the end of her 5th year at Hogwarts and Hermione Granger stepped off the train and onto platform 9 ¾, immediately scanning the area for her parents. Not seeing them she mentally shrugged and hugged a somber Harry and Ron, promising to write over the summer and visit the Burrow, possibly even Little Whinging if she could catch Harry at the park for a few hours.

Not seeing her parents at platform 9 ¾ was nothing new, sometimes they were able to cross with the Weasley's but other times they had shown up a little late and missed their magical ticket through the brick support. So, she shrank her trunk and crossed into the Muggle World.

Looking around the King's Cross station she couldn't find her parents. They had always been there to greet her after a long school year before. '_Maybe they had gotten caught up at the office? Was there a rugby match today? '_ Those tended to bring in a few emergency cases to the dental office. Teen boys running on adrenalin and hormones, plus a sport high in physical contact usually kept the local emergency and dental practices busy for a day or two, especially this close to local championships. Perhaps her parents were held up and felt she was old enough to take care of herself. She was after all 16 in the Muggle world, possibly 17 in the wizarding world due to liberal use of a time turner; she'd have to look into that. Plus she was a witch; surely the Ministry would make an exception for underage magic in the event she had to defend her life or her honor. With this thought, she left Kings Cross and headed for the tube to make her way home.

It was nearly dark when she arrived at her street; the lamps that lit the walk already glowed softly in the twilight. She approached her house and noticed that the garage door was open and her parent's car inside. '_They must have just gotten home,' _she thought with a slight smile. She couldn't wait to see them, to talk endlessly over dinner over the years accomplishments, to try and take her mind off of the events at the ministry just a month before. Hermione may have sported a new scar on her chest, but it was the mental scars she would like to forget. Her smile faded at that. Sirius had died; the Dark Lord had returned to the public eye, the fate of both worlds was in constant peril. Her skin prickled as she bypassed the main entrance and entered the garage. The thought that as a Muggleborn witch, and Harry Potter's best friend, making her and her parents prime targets, entering her mind. Hermione's chest tightened painfully at the thought of her parents coming to harm. With a sudden spark of alarm racing through her, she dashed up the three steps leading from the garage bay to the entrance to the house.

Hermione raced through the kitchen mentally calling out to her parents, her voice having been cut off by the tightening in her chest and throat. '_They are fine, I'm panicking for no reason,' _she chanted to herself. As she rounded the corner into the sitting room she noted briefly that her father lay sprawled on the floor, her mother was on her knees shaking with wild eyes. Hermione froze in her spot in the doorway. Her mother's eyes met hers just before there was a flash of green light and her mother slumped to the floor.

Hermione's mind was blank for once in her life. No thought entered, yet she vaguely registered her body acting. She felt the wood of her wand in her hand, her arm and lips moving with barely audible words as she fired off her patronus. Later, she would thank Harry for caving to her demands to teach the DA. While she knew her patronus could be used as a messenger, she had yet to master that aspect. She didn't even register to whom she sent it, hopefully they'd understand the message.

The cloaked and masked figure standing next to her parent's bodies turned, and she sent a whispered _expelliamus_ in his direction. The cloaked figured blocked it and successfully disarmed her. Someone screamed an agonizing and terrifying scream. Hermione couldn't identify who was screaming for all she could feel was pain, blinding, searing pain, _everywhere_; then all she knew was blue.

…

Severus Snape stood in the Headmaster's office talking to the slightly kinder puppeteer that pulled at his strings, for a marionette he surely was. For nearly twenty years he had been pushed and pulled between two rivals fighting over the same toy, each laying claim to him, each manipulating him to hurt the other in their own twisted ways. Oh how he longed for release, for the sweet death that would surely greet him once the Brat-who-lived-to-annoy-him fulfilled the prophesy and took out at least one of his masters. The debacle at the ministry was still forefront of his mind. The dark Lord did not take to failure kindly, the fact that a contingents of his best Death Eaters being bested by mere children, ranging from an incompetent caldron hazard and a flighty odd Ravenclaw, to the Weasley brood, the Brat-Who-Lived and a Muggleborn witch did not go over well at all. The Death Eaters felt the fruits of their failure under the wand of a madman. In return, they wanted blood. Snape was trying to convince the Old Man that Tom was the least of his immediate worries, but Dumbledore was convinced the Death Eaters wouldn't dare move without so much as a 'by your leave' from the Dark Lord.

Severus' patience was rapidly waning when a burst of light came hurtling through the Headmaster's window knocking the dark professor out of his chair before swimming in the air above him. After he was able to pull back in the air that had made a hastily made an escape from his lungs, Severus stood to see a brilliant blue otter bound and silently chitter about him. "Whose patronus is this?" He demanded of the Headmaster.

"I do not know," Dumbledore replied scowling over his half moon glasses. As the otter started to head butt and shove his Potions Master toward the door, he stood and approached it reaching out an aged hand to touch it.

Severus glared at the otter as he received another sharp nudge toward the door. "Whomever it belongs to needs to teach it some manners."

"Yes, dreadfully bossy." Dumbledore said with more than a little amusement in his voice as Snape tried to swat the offending patronus away. His voice serious once more he said, "The magic feels familiar though."

"Well if it's someone you know, why is it shoving _**me**_ around?" Severus bit out as he pulled his wand with the intention of banishing it.

Dumbledore laid a hand on Snape's wand hand until he lowered it. "Concentrate on it Severus, what can you tell me about the feel of its magic?"

Mentally sighing at the old man's incessant riddles, he stowed his wand and reached out to the otter who rubbed its head on the palm of his hand. Severus closed his eyes and concentrated solely on the feel of the magic that had produced this patronus. It was strong, and familiar… So familiar in fact that it felt a lot like his own, and Dumbledore's, and the Dark Lord. There was one thing the three had in common, in fact they were the only three in Great Britian with this type of magic, or so he thought.

Severus' eyes snapped open and widened. "An affinity for fire," he said with a note of wonder in his otherwise smooth voice.

"That's what I thought." Dumbledore confirmed. "However, Tom has been unable to produce a patronus since he was a teenager, and it's not mine or yours, so the question remains, whose patronus is it? And who is this mystery person with the rare affinity for fire?"

Severus would have pondered the question but the blasted otter started hastily and forcefully shoving him toward the door once more. "Knock it off!" he bellowed. "You're worse than that hand-waving, obnoxious know-it-all! Too eager for attention!" The words had no longer left his mouth when his eyes widened again and he reached out and touched the otter once more. "Granger!" he said in disbelief. "I've always passed the sensation off as general annoyance, rather than the feel of the affinity." His voiced changed to one of annoyance. "The annoying, bossy, hyperactive otter makes sense now as well."

"Yes," replied Dumbledore stroking his beard. "But why did she send it, and to you of all people?"

"I have no idea." Severus drawled. Then it hit him, the Muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter would make a nice gift for any Death Eater trying to get back into the Dark Lord's graces. Giving Dumbledore a frantic look he demanded. "Lower the wards!"

As soon as Dumbledore closed his eyes and said "done" he apparated, letting the feel of the affinity, of her magic, pull his like a beacon.

….

Snape apperated into a scene of absolute mayhem. He appeared on the front lawn of a respectable yet modest home in a nice neighborhood in Muggle England. The house before him was billowing with smoke and flames, swirling in a howling wind. A familiar looking lump of black robes and white-blonde hair lay motionless on the grass. As much as he was loath to save the life of any Death Eater, those in such places on influence among the Dark Lord's followers he really would rather leave to expire on the Granger's lawn. However, it would look rather bad if he didn't at least stick an emergency portkey on one or two of them. With that thought he pulled a charmed knut from his pocket, activated it and tossed it in Malfoy's direction. A moment later Malfoy was gone.

Snape pulled his wand and blasted in the front door, then passed through the wall of fire with nary a singe. That was the beauty of having an affinity with fire, it greeted you as an old friend, as a loyal lap dog of sorts, eager to please and allow him passage unharmed. If only people were as loyal and accommodating.

He made his way cautiously through the house, wand held at the ready. When he entered the sitting room, he was met with a scene that would haunt his dreams for weeks to come. The room itself was eerily calm, like the eye of a storm. The room remained virtually untouched by flame. Mr. Granger lay in a grotesque and bloodied heap near the floo. Mrs. Granger lay crumpled with a glassy-eyed vacant stare a few feet from her husband. These scenes were nothing new to Severus Snape, he had been among the Death Eaters at too many raids, too many revels and 'information gathering' sessions to be phased by such. No, it was not that. It wasn't even the screams of Belatrix LeStrange as her skin blistered and peeled from her body as he tossed another portkey in her direction (she was the Dark Lord's favorite pet after all, with any luck she'll still die or at least be incapacitated for the remainder of the war), it was the wild-eyed girl kneeling in tattered clothes on the floor, irises dancing with flames, blue tendrils of fire licked up her body in an almost sensual display. Her left arm was outstretched toward a group of Death Eaters screaming and consumed by fire near the stairwell. Her right hand was wrapped around the throat of Dolohov who lay writhing and convulsing on the floor as he burned inside out. The look on Granger's face was one of pure vengeance and hatred. And the smell, the smell of burning flesh, bone and timber would cling to him and cloy his nose seemingly for days to come. In that moment she was the most terrifying and vengefully beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Snape took another step into the room. The other Death Eaters could stay there and burn for all he cared. He had already sent the two that mattered to the Dark Lord back to Malfoy manor, the rest were on their own. He crept cautiously toward the girl. She looked positively feral; the last thing he wanted was to become part of this Death Eater barbeque. He reached toward her to lay a hand on her shoulder moments before Dolohov gave his last dying spasm, choking on his own boiling blood. His hand passed through her protective cocoon of blue flame, noting in the back of his mind how they were almost cool to the touch. When his hand made contact with her shoulder, her eyes snapped to his. Snape was immediately overwhelmed with strong emotions as her eyes drew him in, confusion, fear, hatred, grief and an overwhelming sense of loss that made his chest tighten to the point where he could barely draw breath. He tried desperately to break that connection, he hadn't felt such crushing heartbreak for nearly 17 years. Not since he held Lilly's lifeless body to his own as he wailed in despair.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hermione grabbed his arm, pulled him off balance and launched herself into his arms, clutching his hair and the back of his robes as hoarse screams and choked sobs wracked her body. He lifted her awkwardly, stood and turned dispparating with a crack.

….

The front gates of Hogwarts parted before him. Still clutching the frantic girl awkwardly, Snape made his way up the long drive to the main doors where he was met by Dumbledore, Poppy and Minerva; the later clasping a hand over her mouth and the other clutching at the front of her tartan robes at the sight of the inconsolable girl still surrounded by cool blue flames in his arms. All three trailed silently behind him as he made his way to the infirmary.

"Sweet Merlin! Is she on fire?" Poppy asked aghast.

"In a way." Dumbledore replied. "They'll do her no harm as they are of her own creation, though I suggest that only Severus or I touch her until she is able to get them under control or is knocked unconscious since fire will not harm either of us."

The brisk walk to the infirmary felt like miles.

Once there, Poppy ran a few preliminary diagnostics before handing a potion to Snape, who with some difficulty, managed to pry the girl off him enough to tilt her head back and pour the contents down her throat causing her to choke and sputter, but none the less getting the strong calming draught into her system. Within moments Hermione slumped motionless against her Potions Professor, the flames surrounding her body winked out of existence as Snape gently laid her on the cot for a closer examination by Poppy.

"What is Nimue's name happened Severus?" Minerva demanded. She looked more shaken than he had ever seen her before. But then again, it's not every day when the resident Potions Master/Death Eater spy shows up with a bloodied, bruised, _flaming_ student in his arms.

"A half dozen Death Eaters decided to throw Ms. Granger a welcome home party" Snape said with thinly veiled sarcasm and disgust. "The group from the ministry fiasco were most embarrassed to be beaten by a bunch of children and a few ragtag order members showing up at the last. I assume they were out for a little revenge and Ms. Granger and her family were the easiest targets." His voice softened as he added, "Her parents and her home are gone." He shook his head and Minerva let out a strangled gasp. Dumbledore implored him to continue with sad, weary eyes. "Ms. Granger looked to have been ambushed, she was without her wand and employing some pretty impressive wandless and wild magic. I'd be surprised if any of the Death Eater's survived, including Lucius and Belatrix, whom I portkey'd back to Malfoy manor."

Poppy approached with a sober look. "The poor thing went through a round or two of cruiciatus, but she is otherwise physically well, no burns and a few minor scrapes and bruises. But I did overhear that she likely witnessed her parents' death." At Snape's nod she continued, "I'm worried more for her mental health. I suggest someone she trusts and can look to for comfort stays until she wakes. Though I don't think Mr. Potter nor Mr. Weasley would be a good choice. They may be more than she could handle at the moment."

"I agree." Minerva said. "I'll stay with her, in fact, not much could pull me away at the moment. Poor little lamb."

"Headmaster, I suggest we continue this debriefing in your office, it might be best to debrief by pensive." Snape suggested.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement and with a last look at the girl on the cot, turned and exited the infirmary.


	2. Chapter 2

In loving Memory 2

**Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. ~From a headstone in Ireland**

…**.**

Dumbledore and Snape were thrown out of the pensive and back into the room. After a moment of silence Dumbledore moved to his desk and took a seat. He snapped his fingers and moments later a tea tray appeared. After a half hearted attempt to offer Snape a lemon drop he poured his tea, took a sip and prepared to speak.

"I've seen a lot of things in my 158 years Severus, but that was by far, the most disturbing."

Snape sat in a chair across Dumbledore with a scowl on his face. "Indeed." Was all he could say.

"And you do not think that Tom sanctioned the raid on Ms. Granger and her family?"

"No, I do not. If he had, I would likely have known about it so I could at the very least provide a proper time frame on when the attack should take place."

Dumbledore only nodded with a troubled look on his face.

Snape grimaced and sat up. "I'm being summoned."

"Go on ahead, Severus. I'll inform Minerva and Poppy of the events at the Granger house. But in Merlin's name be vigilant! It wouldn't do to lose you to Tom's growing madness."

Snape's face remained impassive while Dumbledore sighed and dropped the wards for the second time that day.

….. 

Snape walked up the drive to Malfoy manor while mentally preparing his mind for the inevitable onslaught. He was thankful Dumbledore either took his word or used a pensive. Legillimency wasn't a pleasant experience under ideal conditions.

A house elf opened the large front door and bowed before the dour Potion's Master before silently leading him to the study Voldemort occupied.

Snape stopped before the Dark Lord and bowed his head low, letting his hair spill over his shoulders and exposing the back of his neck in a show of loyalty, trust and submission. Voldemort placed a clawed finger under his chin and tilted his head up and instantly entered his mind the moment their eyes met. Snape had prepared though, it wasn't the first time the Dark Lord tore apart his mind first and asked questions never.

Voldemort saw Snape taking tea with Dumbledore, some seriously edited and manipulated memories of the old man speculating as to Voldemort's next move and plans for the future. All images showed wild, way off base speculations and Snape could feel the Dark Lord's amusement over it. The patronus entered the study and knocked Snape over. He showed Voldemort his irritation at the annoying patronus and his feelings of dismay and uneasiness that accompanied the knowledge that Hermione Granger, a _mudblood_ witch had an affinity for fire; an affinity shared by three of the most powerful wizards alive. Next Voldemort was shown a completely false image and thought process of Snape trying to decide if he should save said mudblood and 'prove' his loyalty to Dumbledore or not. As he was sure it was not a sanctioned raid, he figured he'd play Gryffindor and rescue the damsel only to be met with an inferno.

Voldemort stayed in his mind long enough for Snape to show him the girl's hurt and grief that had bled over and overwhelmed him momentarily. After exiting Snape's mind, Voldemort began to pace the length of the Malfoy study. Snape stood in a fair imitation of parade rest and waited him out.

"So thisss mudblood," Voldemort spat, "has the rare affinity for fire?" His pacing continued. "How can a mudblood witch have an affinity so rare only a handful of wizards are documented as having it?" At this he turned his red eyes to Snape.

"I do not know my lord. I am as stunned as you, but I cannot deny what I saw or felt." Snape hoped that Granger's rare affinity might make her novel enough to keep safe for the time being. He was really sick of playing this game of intrigue and trying to save one pitiful life after another without losing his own. He figured a slight change in subject was due. "What of Lucius and Bella?"

The Dark Lord looked at him with a facsimile of a smirk. "Luciusss will live. The healer that I… procured… assuresss me that he will wake eventually with a massssive headache, but will live. Bella…." Here his expression darkened. His red eyes seemed to glow a bit brighter as he stared at Snape for a long moment before continuing. "_Conventional_ medicine hasn't been of much help. Sseveral Dark spellsss have kept her alive thuss far. Now that I know what was used on her, _wild_ ..._ elemental __**fire**_ magic…." The Dark Lord looked near rapture at the thought for a moment before waving his hand as if to wave away the matter. "The important thing Severuss, is _what_ to do with the mudblood now."

"What does my Lord suggest?"

Voldemort paced a few moments longer. "She isss not to be harmed, by anyone. See to it Severusss!"

Snape raised a surprised eyebrow to which Voldemort hissed a harsh sound that passed as a laugh. "She may be valuable, even if only as breeding stock. Imagine! The children of two with the affinity of fire. Even if she isss a mudblood."

Snape kept his emotions calm and controlled, just showing a touch of surprise and awe for the Dark Lord's forethought. Inside he was reeling. There were only three with the affinity for fire other than Miss Granger, and he didn't think the Dark Lord was looking to Dumbledore to fulfill the male half of the task. Neither remaining option set well with him.

"For now though," Voldemort continued, "I mussst do some ressearch. Keep her sssafe. That ought to alssso endear you to your _headmaster_," he spat.

Snape bowed and Voldemort waved a lazy hand in dismissal before summoning a book. Snape left with measured steps until he was outside Malfoy's wards before dispparrating. His trip to the castle however, seemed rushed, at least for Severus Snape.

…..

Snape found the Headmaster not in his office but the infirmary trying in vain to coax a hysterical, flaming Hermione Granger to take another sleeping potion.

"Severus! Thank Merlin you've returned so soon!" Dumbledore exclaimed.

"Surely you don't need me to pour every potion into the child Headmaster. She will harm you as much as she would harm me."

"Quite so." Dumbledore replied with a twinkle. "However, I was only going to have her sedated until you returned. You see, when she woke as hysterical as when you first brought her in, I decided that perhaps I should lock away her memories for the time being."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I assume you mean via legillimency rather than obliviate or you would have done so already. Actually, even still, you are the superior legillimense why do you need me?"

"You see my boy, even I cannot rival you in occulmency, and I'm sure what you will find in her mind will require _your_ particular expertise."

Intrigued, and willing to delay the information he possessed for the moment, Snape approached the bed. McGonagall was trying desperately to get Miss Granger to heed her voice and plead with her to calm down and let them approach. Snape laid a hand on McGonagall's shoulder. "Allow me to try Minerva. I am in no danger of getting scorched." Later she would remind him that he had indeed been set on fire five years ago, but for the time being she moved aside hoping he could reach her.

Snape sat beside Hermione on the bed facing her. He pulled her hands from her face and the moment her wild tear filled eyes met his he dove in with a silent spell.

Her memories did not assault him like clips from film reels like usual. No, instead he found himself standing on a beach of sorts, books spread around him on the sand and in the lapping shallows of a misty body of water. Miss Granger was collapsed in a puddle of robes in the shallows, a soggy book in her hands as she wailed the most mournful sound he had heard in a decade or more. The book seemed to be bound in a leather of the blackest of blacks, the pages were scorched around the edges. It looked like it might have buckles or clamps to hold it closed. There was a dark and foreboding feel emanating from the book.

'_She's an occulmense!'_ The thought brought him up short. Well, if he could get her to close that book which surely contained the events of the day, maybe he could aid her in setting up an organizational system to house her thoughts. He could help her keep the most difficult to deal with memories on their proverbial shelves. While it was unhealthy to lock them away and never visit them, it was useful to be able to take them out and browse, let them be assimilated at a moderate pace. It would be easier for her to deal with her loss without breaking her mind. Now he understood why Dumbledore tasked him with bottling up her memories. She already had the most rudimentary systems in place, perhaps this is what gave her an edict memory, or perhaps it was because _of_ her edict memory this place existed. Either way, he _was_ the best person to aid her.

Snape walked into the shallows, noticing the water was warm and salt tinged. _'Likely representing her tears.'_ He thought. Yes, he could work with this. If he could get her to calm down a little first. He knelt in the shallows next to her and tried to pry the book from her death grip. She wasn't giving up the book.

"Miss Granger!" He bellowed in his sharpest classroom voice. Even within the sanctuary of her mind, she was forced to heed his voice as her head snapped up.

She let go of the book, but a split second later the girl had flung herself into his arms sobbing. "They're gone, they're gone Professor!" she wailed. She cried for a moment more before whispering through gasping sobs, "What am I to do?"

Hermione didn't care that she had her arms wrapped around her surly potions professor, nor that she was doing so within the confines of her mind. Her chest felt heavy, as if a crushing weight had settled itself there, her lungs burning with every breath. Her stomach and the crushed, jagged pieces of her heart felt like they were being ripped by a hot poker from her belly button up through her esophagus, choking her. Her head felt muzzy and her eyes ached. Her skin felt dry and irritated with itchy fire, like poison ivy. She hurt. She hurt mentally and physically from her toes to the tips of her hair. The only source of ease was almost imperceptible amount of comfort she felt with her face buried in her professor's neck, and the strong arms that supported her jelly like body.

For Snape, consoling an irrational student whom had lost a member of their family was nothing new as he was head of Slytherin House. However, he had no idea how to console a _Gryffindor_, **that** was Minerva's job, and something he was more than willing to leave to her.

"What you are to _do_, Miss Granger, is to get up and help me tidy up this mess. We'll see if we can work on a rudimentary organizational system. Then, I will give you a book, a book that you will treat much better than these lying about, and learn how using occulmency can help you deal with your loss." With that, he pulled back from the sobbing girl and snapped the book he was holding shut.

The moment the book snapped shut, her breathing and heart rate returned to normal. Her eyes dried and she was left with a lethargy about her, and a deep dull ache in her chest. She knew what happened but could not access the memories or the heartache she felt a moment before. Hermione looked up into the black fathomless pits of her professor's eyes. He was standing, holding her book, the one her mind had created specifically for the horrors of her life. She held her hand out for hit, but Snape just shook his head in the negative.

"The last thing you need right now, is to look at the contents of this book. Right now you need to pull up that _Gryffindor_ pluck, and work on your occulemncy."

"But I'm not an occulmense." Was the only thing she could say as she looked at him with wide, confused eyes.

"Then what do you call this place?" He asked making a sweeping gesture with the book and holding his other arm wide.

"I-I don't know." She stammered. "This is new; I've never visited this place before. I mean… I have a, uh, library, sort of." Her brow furrowed as if she was having a hard time conveying her thoughts.

"A library?" Snape queried. Leave it _her_ to visualize a library for her mindscape.

Hermione started to pace a bit and bit her lip as she thought. Normally impatient with wasted efforts, Snape allowed her a moment to think. Articulating what she wanted to say clearly and the first time, was preferable to a long drawn out stammering attempt or three.

After a time Hermione stilled and looked at him as if considering him. "I assume you are in my mind via legillimency." Snape nodded. "This isn't exactly how I pictured legillimency to work, actually."

"It's not." Snape responded. "Normally there are images and impressions of feelings and thoughts. The only time one 'visits' a mindscape is when one has broken through a façade of images set out by an occulmense to thwart a legillimense. It is _not_ a place you want anyone to find."

He could feel her dread and tension, oddly surrounding perceived disproval rather than alarm over what he, as a legillimense, could do here. It was a novel idea to have so much misplaced trust.

"However," he continued, "since I _am_ here, once I know what you are rambling about, I could, perhaps, help you set up a semblance of a proper mindscape."

She considered him a moment and reeled her feelings in a bit better. "At any rate, I've never visited… _this_," she mimicked his sweeping gesture, "before. I've actually never visited my mind, at least not in such a disembodied way. I mean…" Here she took a deep breath to stop from rambling when Snape crossed his arms and scowled at her. "I know you aren't in the mood for a lesson in the 'History of Hermione,' but I think you'll need a little context in order to help me."

"As longs as you keep it brief."

Deciding to see if she could manipulate this place she tried, and successfully conjured a couple armchairs and changed the landscape to resemble her favorite corner of the Gryffindor common room.

Snape raised a surprised eyebrow at her.

Hermione shrugged self consciously and tucked a curl behind her ear. "I thought I'd try to make this a little more comfortable."

"Indeed. In fact, you seem to be grasping this concept rather well for someone who claims not to know what this is all about." His eyes narrowed at her suspiciously as he took a seat across from her.

"Well, we'll get to the theory I have on _why_ this comes naturally in a sec." She had straightened her posture and took on an authoritative, swotty air.

'_This must be why her friends avoid her at the end of terms. She probably lectures them senseless.' _Snape thought.

She held up a hand and silently 'accioed' a book from someplace unseen as well as the one he held in his lap. Snape stood to retrieve the dark book but she held up a hand.

"I believe I can look at the correct information without opening to my parent's deaths. If for some reason I cannot, feel free to take it from me then."

Snape gave her a small glare before reclaiming his seat.

Hermione opened the first book and settled as if she was going to read a bedtime story to a small child.

"Once upon a time…."


	3. Chapter 3

In Loving Memory 3

**When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Khalil Gibran**

…**..**

"Once upon a time…"

Snape shot Hermione a dark look. She saw it but ignored it. This was _her_ mind after all.

"… there was a girl born to a young hippie-ish couple. They were proud to have a daughter, and as lovers of books, decided to give the girl a memorable if not pleasant name. As the baby grew to a toddler, her parents noticed that there was something different about her. Thinking an easy grasp of language at a young age and her vivid imagination (owls for postmen indeed!) signified that she was gifted, they encouraged her by taking her on trips to the library and filling her head with stories."

"Unfortunately, this particular girl insisted that stories of evil witches and innocent damsels were wrong. She innately knew that witches and wizards were not evil by nature and townspeople and damsels were not so innocent either. As the girl grew she became an agitated and excitable child who _broke_ things, especially electronic devices even though she insisted she had not touched them. In order to help the child cope, these dental interns leaned on their hippie routes and took her to see a holistic healer who taught her to meditate."

Thinking that perhaps she might be able to show Snape a particular memory she closed her eyes and concentrated. On one of the walls the memory showed like a movie from a projector.

A Hermione of about 6 was sitting cross legged with a woman who could be Trewlany's sister, so bedecked was she in silk scarves and cheap bangles. Snape scoffed but let the show continue.

"Now young one, as you concentrate on your breathing, I want you to visualize a place, a place in your mind that makes you feel content and secure."

"Like a library!" the young Hermione chirped enthusiastically.

The Trewalny look-a-like opened her eyes aghast. "No, child, a library while quiet, isn't a calming place. It is full of books and stories and just the sort of place where that imagination of yours would run amok. No, that won't do at all. How could you put away the chaos of your thoughts in a library?"

"Well… on a shelf!"

"You cannot just _shelve_ memories young one. They need to become energy, to be stored in the cosmos if they're good, the bad ones you'll just let flow into the ground. Like this…" she said as she demonstrated breathing.

"Why can't I use a library? I could make my memories and thoughts and feelings into books and put them on a shelf. And I don't think is very smart to try and toss bad memories aside. Lessons can be learned from the bad too, plus there's just something… _wrong_ about locking them away or forgetting them.. it just seems… I don't know… bad or something."

Sister Trewlany (as Snape decided to call this woman), shook her head in exasperation, giving Hermione a 'your parents don't pay me enough' look. "Just close your eyes child." It was clear that Sister Trewlany was trying to keep her voice calm and serene, but it was strained. "Now just breathe, yes that's it. Now feel the energy flowing within you."

Luckily Sister Trewlany had her eyes closed because Hermione was indeed feeling the flow of her power; it was practically pulsing around her.

"Now let those chaotic thought and all those negative feelings flow out your body and into the ground."

Hermione was bathed in flames now, those distinct blue flames that he had seen her covered in earlier. The 'emotions' flowed out alright. The carpet and walls caught fire, heat induced wind jostled her curls. Sister Trewlany's eyes snapped open and she screamed. Jumping up from her position on her cushion, Sister Trewlany grabbed a nearby chair and readied herself to throw it through the studio window. Hermione's small hand stopped her. Luckily the child was no longer covered in blue flames, but while Sister Trewlany was sweating and choking on smoke, Hermione was calm and serene.

"If you break that window Ma'am, it will only make the fire worse and you will die. We need to find another room, close the door and leave that way."

Sister Trewlany looked panicked, but dropped the chair and took Hermione's hand and pointed to a door that was cracked open. "We can get out through the bedroom, but we can't get through the fire to get there."

Hermione just calmly led her to the wall of flames blocking the door and roughly pulled her through the fire into the room and closed the door. Luckily Sister Trewlany had the good sense to drop to the floor and roll around to put out her flaming scarves. Hermione opened the window and called to her meditation instructor.

The scene on the wall flickered out.

"The fire was deemed to have been caused by old wiring. Madame Renior was credited with saving my life and heralded a hero."

Snape snorted. "She was a much a hack as Trewlany."

Hermione gave him a wry grin. "Well yes, but she did teach me a few things; first about letting my magic flow, calming myself and visualizing my own personal 'happy place'. Though, I did disregard her advice on a library being a poor choice for my memories. I spent the next couple of year visualizing my library and visualizing my ideas, thought and memories as books."

"I see. Well, now that story time is over, I propose we visit this library of yours and see what it may need."

"Not quite yet professor." Before the protest on his tongue could be formed into a scathing remark, she continued. "There are a couple other things that are important to my… whatever this place is called."

"Mindscape." Snape bit out. "Fine, but hurry it up."

Hermioned closed the book she had been reading from and opened the black book. "When the girl was 8, her parents tried another approach. They took her to see a hypnotist. The very thought of someone having control over her mind, the thought that he may somehow be able to see her library terrified her. While the hypnotist tried to bring her under his control, the young girl panicked. In an effort to shrug off his control, she quite accidentally caused the man's blood to heat until his heart exploded." Hermione peeked at Snape from under her eyelashes to see if his face was filled with disgust that she took the life of a Muggle at the mere age of 8. His face was as impassive as ever, though she was swore she saw a spark of surprise in his eyes. At least it wasn't revulsion. "The death was ruled as a heart attack caused by a severe blood infection and hypertension, with a mention of possible spontaneous human combustion. I was so afraid that the cops questioning me would be able to read my mind and find out I killed him that I shut the memory up in this book and sunk my library in quicksand. I didn't realize at the time just how dangerous it was to shut everything out. I didn't have another episode of accidental magic until I was 10."

Hermione turned the page of her book. "This is the last one." She rearranged her position in her chair before continuing. "When the girl was 10 her grandmother died. The girl had been feeling out of sorts and experiencing mood swings for about a year prior. Her mother assured her it was just the onset of adolescent hormones and that every girl goes through these mood changes. When her grandmother died, the girl felt she had no way to compartmentalize her grandmother's death. Something essential was lacking and the girl became hysterical. Her parents took her to a priest to assure the girl that grandma was in heaven and that it was ok to be sad, but to understand that she would see her again."

Hermione's expression became dark and haunted. "Unfortunately, the priest saw something in me and decided to hold an impromptu exorcism."

Snape's expression did change then, it changed to a mixture of pity, shock and pure rage. Several tools used in exorcisms were actually ancient wizarding relics of questionable magics.

A few tears streamed down Hermione's face before she continued. "Needless to say, it did not go well. The priest and his alcyote unearthed my library and unleashed my magic. My parents nearly died, the holy men _did_, and the entire Cathedral burned to the ground with a few impressive explosions. The papers reported the cause as a gas leak, but I have never been more terrified in my life. Not even under the Death Eater's wand this morning compared to that. Aurors flocked the place, apparating in like demonic spirits, casting spells and apparating me and my parents to St. Mungos. The next couple of hours were spent with healers and Aurors telling me that I did nothing wrong, _nothing_!" she screeched. Hermione bolted form her seat and started to pace. Professor McGonagall showed up and explained to me and my parents that I was a witch and my magic had manifested."

Snape watched the agitated girl, and then looked to the open black book lying on the floor where it had slid off her lap. He stood, walked over to the book and picked it up. He shut it with an audible snap.

Hermione's mood once again leveled out. "Professor McGonagall gave me "Hogwarts a History" and then later a few beginner spell books. I vowed I would study harder than I ever had, and I would master my powers. It took a year of sorting my library and assimilating my new knowledge with the old before I felt confident I wasn't going to accidentally turn into a real-live "Carrie." I came to Hogwarts a couple weeks after I first felt in control of the magic."

"Then I'd say you failed, because that scene I walked into earlier was a fair impression of the Muggle film."

Hermione shot him a dirty look, but he continued. "Now, if you're done with the history lesson and the _wallowing_… then I suggest we get to it. As _nice_ as this _Gryffindor_ seating area is, I have other things to do today."

'_Heartless bastard!'_ Hermione thought before closing her eyes, controlling her breathing and envisioning her library.

The scene around him changed. They were now standing in the middle of a jungle, only, in this jungle, a massive library stood. The library was three levels tall with roman style marble pillars and stairs leading up to ornate French doors. The library was floating on a sea of quick sand. Hermione walked confidently across the surface of the quicksand to the steps of the library. Snape followed her just as confidently as he was secure in his legilimen abilities.

In the foyer, Hermione paused. "It's so different feeling like I'm physically walking through here versus imagining it. Is this something I can do on my own, or only when my mind is being invaded?"

Snape stood looking at a plaque in the center of the room which was an obvious directory, good for sorting and storing one's memories, bad for giving an invader a road map to what they are looking for. "The art of the mind is complex and mastering it is a long, hard and potentially dangerous road." At Hermione's surprised look Snape smirked. "It wouldn't do to get lost in your own mind permanently would it?" Hermione's eyes widened in shock and a touch of horror. No doubt she was imagining all the ways this could have gone wrong over the years stumbling unknowingly through the complicated task of occulmency in intuitive and trial and error approaches. "But to answer your question, _visiting_ one's mindscape is possible for any competent occulmense once you reach an advanced stage of meditation. It becomes easier and second nature eventually, but that is more advanced than you really need to know."

"I beg to differ! Not only do I need to know as much as possible to protect my own mind, but I might be able to teach Harry too. He really needs a way to block out Vol- um, He-Who-Is-An-Evil-Git."

A wild look had crossed Hermione's eyes, but he shot her a nasty glare to stifle the rest her protests. "I will _not_ be coerced into teaching another _Gryffindor_ the arts of the mind. If you want to learn, find another teacher," he said with a sneer.

"Fine. But I _will_ learn." She responded defiantly.

Snape walked to the back of the main hall and down marble steps. That directory in the foyer really gave him a great layout of her mindscape. At the bottom of the steps he walked through a small room filled with shelves of books. The bindings on these books were dull, dark colors, some of the bindings even looked a little cracked. At the back of the room was a small area of shelves that was blocked off by a set of iron doors. The doors looked weak and a little rusty. This was where the 'black book' belonged. Granted she'd have to visit and visit the memories within sometime, but right now the book needed to be locked up.

Hermione was behind him, but he didn't give a fig. He could easily have asked her to open the section, but decided to test the strength of the doors. He grabbed on to the bars and gave an experimental tug. Hermione grabbed her head as if a migrane had suddenly and forcefully taken hold. He looked at the girl and decided to go ahead and break in. She needed to know a little of what a legilimense could do, and this would not do her any permanent damage. He pulled forcefully on the bars and they broke open as Hermione fell to the floor with a sharp scream.

Inside, he put the back book back and grabbed another and started flipping through. _'This is interesting.'_ He thought. The memories in these pages were of the Golden Trio's rule breaking exploits. '_The chit set me on fire!'_ It took a moment to realize that was probably the _only_ way he could have been set on fire, by another with the affinity. He was so startled at the time that he actually caught _on fucking fire_, that he didn't really stop to think about the how. He was just getting to the girl solving his Riddle that same year when the book was wrenched from his fingers by a non-verbal _accio_.

"I think that's enough of that Professor!" Hermione said slightly enraged.

"You know that I could take that if I wanted." He retorted.

"I do, but you are not here to uncover all my dirty little secrets now are you?" She was tired, her head was throbbing and honestly she wanted a cuddle and a good cry, two things she was not going to do with Snape right now.

"True." He looked around a moment more and recalled the directory in the foyer. Yes, the girl was off to a very good start. Besides he wasn't her to teach her, but to get her to calm the hell down. "I think you are fine for the moment. If you have any questions, _ask Dumbledore_." He said with a glare. Knowing her, she would start peppering him with questions the moment he exited her mind.

"Very well professor. How do I show you the proverbial door?"

'_Insufferable!' _was his last thought as he exited her mind.

…..

After Snape left her mind, it took a moment for her vision to return, and even then she started to swoon a bit.

"She should be fine for the time being Headmaster." Snape said, directing his attention to Dumbledore.

"Very well. If you wouldn't mind joining me in my office for tea, I'd be much obliged."

Snape took it for the debriefing order that it was. They did have much to discuss, not the least, his visit with Riddle. Snape inclined his head at the Headmaster and started off for the study.

"Minerva, if you will join me in, oh say an hour?"

McGonagall looked at him and nodded before sitting in Snape's vacant spot on Hermione's bed. The moment she sat, the girl threw her arms around her neck, buried her face in her robes and softly wept. Gone were the hysterics and flames of earlier, now was tears of healing and exhaustion.

…..

A/N: I wanted to have this up long ago, but college started back up and the whole house caught the stomach flu (5 out of 6 of us at least, hubs was spared). Updates may be spotty, I do this to relax and for my own entertainment. College and kids take up an insane amount of my time, but will try to update as soon as inhumanly possible ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Snape had just taken his last swig of tea after his lengthy debrief with Dumbledore when Minerva joined them.

"She's calm and resting now, poor lass." Minerva informed them. She looked like she had been put through the wringer herself, and perhaps she had been, Granger _was_ her favorite cub after all. She was even more protective of the little know-it-all at any given time than she ever was with even precious Potter.

"Good, good." Dumbledore said distractedly stroking his beard. "However, this creates a bit of a security problem. She will no doubt be named a ward of the ministry, which we all know is falling more and more into Tom's hands every day. After Severus' report on Tom's plans to keep her close for possible breeding purposes…" He was cut off by an outraged and fairly vulgar Minerva as she spewed out an impressive litany of profanity and questions regarding the Dark Lord's sanity and commenting on his questionable parentage.

"If you're quite through!" barked Snape. He was actually quite amused and more than a little impressed with the sailors mouth on the Scotswoman, but now wasn't the time.

Minerva shot Snape a glare and settled herself in her seat. "That can't happen Albus!"

"I agree. I'll keep the ministry at bay as long as I can. However, we will need to convene a meeting of the order. I feel our best course of action would to have her adopted."

"I'm sure the Weasley's are more than willing." Snape drawled. "Merlin knows they've practically adopted the chit and boy wonder as it is."

Minerva didn't even register the insults, instead she immediately replied, "Nonsense, I'll take her. Merlin knows I have the means to provide for her and keep her safe." She looked longingly at Dumbledore. "I hate to think of the circumstances as a blessing…" she trailed off.

"I know Min, you've been seriously considering adopting for a few decades now." Dumbledore looked at her seriously, "But there's something you haven't seemed to catch onto yet." After a slight dramatic pause he continued, "She has the affinity for fire."

Minerva gasped and clutched at the ever present amulet hanging at her chest. Snape arched an eyebrow at her but otherwise waited for her to overcome whatever fit she was having in the presence of two others with the affinity.

Dumbledore seemed to be reading Minerva's thoughts. "It would of course be her choice, but you may offer it to her if you wish."

"Enough with the riddles Albus." Snape was now losing his patience. "What in the name of Nimue are you going on about?"

Dumbledore smirked at the invocation, but left the explanation to Minerva.

"Have you ever read the Corpus Hermeticum Severus?"

"Of course." He paused then shook his head. "Of all the boneheaded…. You can't honestly tell me you buy into that blood adoption nonsense and what has that to do with Granger having the affinity for fire?"

"The Corpus Hermeticum was a poor excuse of a translation, adulteration and propaganda piece written by the Greeks. But… it has its roots in truth."

"You're talking about the book of Thoth." Snape scoffed, "Well unless you have the original 5,000+ year old book of solid gold secreted about your person…"

"Not about my person no, but... this is a coven secret a man hasn't been privy to... well, before Albus, you are the second Severus," she took a deep breath before continuing, "the coven of Nimue has the original book of Thoth, or as he's more appropriately called, Djwety. It is in a location only accessible to the High Witch of the coven…" she smirked at him now. "Me."

Snape's jaw dropped in disbelief, it was extremely rare that something shocked him enough to break his mask of passiveness, but Minerva just managed. "So you're telling me, that the fabled Coven of Nimue is not only real, but it has in its possession a book so revered it's been relegated to the status of legend as well, and _you_ are the High Witch?"

Minerva's smug look made her look a few years younger. "Yes I am. I also know that the adoption spell in that book is real and it works. Granted, it's only been done twice in 5,000 years, but the instructions are clear and a blood adoption is possible. The catch is that it can only be performed on a child with the affinity for fire... for the adoptee is literally reborn in fire."

…..

The early summer wind was cold and her thin nightshirt offered no protection against the elements up on the Astronomy tower, but Hermione was warm. While she was not a human inferno, she was surrounded by somber looking flames; they matched her melancholy mood perfectly. In her mind, she had her black book open. The emotions usually brought by the black book were tempered with the emotions of another with the binding of sky blue. She thought about her parents, their deaths and wanted to blame herself. She felt she needed to blame herself but for some reason couldn't muster the courage to do it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she was born a witch by happenstance and not from anything she did, and while being a Muggleborn put her family in jeopardy, not attending Hogwarts and seeing to her magical education could have been just as disastrous for her parents. If she hadn't learned to channel her magic… and to know that even _still_ she was walking around like a bomb with a faulty wire… well, at least she took out a dozen Death Eaters when she went off.

It had been a week since her parents died and no one had mentioned what would happen to her now that she was an orphan. She hadn't even seen Harry or Ron. All that had been done was settling of her parents affairs. A funeral was deemed too dangerous so she lowered an urn for each of them into the ground under the watchful eyes of Severus Snape, Dumbledore and the calming presence of Professor McGonagall.

There was an order meeting tomorrow. At least she'd be able to see Harry and Ron. She figured the topic of the meeting would be what to do with her. She'd be of legal age in the Wizarding world in September if she wasn't already... maybe they'd induct her into the order, make her an official adult. But then, where would she live? Since didn't yet know enough about navigating the Wizarding world as far as rent and real estate and such things. She hadn't planned to need those skills until years after she left Hogwarts and attended a Wizarding University or fulfilled an apprenticeship.

She felt lost.

She felt… something soft brushing her hand. She was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, one hand holding onto the elbow of the other arm surrounding her legs, one hand dipping down to the floor. Before she even looked at the source of softness she heard a small meow and a purr. She couldn't help but giggle as her Transfiguration Professor leapt up onto her knees and rubbed her feline head against her own forehead.

Hermione shifted and picked the cat up, cradling her in her arms as she stroked the soft fur. It was easy to forget this wasn't just some random cat, or Crookshanks who had been home since the Easter Holidays. He too was lost to her. Hermione buried her face in the cat's fur and wept for her familiar, yet another for her to mourn. How many would she mourn before this war was over?

After a few moments, the soft fur disappeared and Hermione found herself being held by Professor McGonagall. She didn't know what she would have done without her head of house over the last week, and told her as much.

"Hermione. I was going to wait till morning, but I think we should discuss it now."

Hermione looked at her curiously. "What is it?"

McGonagall pulled back and sat on the floor mimicking Hermione's pose only facing the young witch and within easy reach. "The order meeting tomorrow is to discuss where you go from here."

"I thought as much. I know I'll be 17 soon if I'm not already due to use of the time-turner. Do you know what they'll do with me?"

"There are a few options," she supplied. "Our main concern is to keep you safe, but you do have some say. The Headmaster believes that the ministry will insist you become their ward. In fact, he's had to speak with the minister about this a few times since your parents died. He feels, and many of us feel, that the best course of action is to have you adopted by an Order member."

"Oh." Hermione said solemnly. "Do you know who will be stuck with me?"

"Don't think of yourself as a burden Hermione, anyone would be lucky to have you. But I meant what I said in that you have some choice. Molly of course would take you, as would a few others… but, Hermione, I was hoping… I was hoping you'd choose me."

Hermione's head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. "You? You'd want… me? T-to… adopt… me?"

"If you'll have me." McGonagall replied, her brogue thick with emotion.

Hermione launched herself into her professor's arms. "Yes, yes… of course! If anyone… of anyone.. I never…" She started to sob happy tears for the first time in months. The death of her parents, the Department of Ministries fiasco…. All of them led to tears of pain, sorrow and frustration. Her first year at Hogwarts Hermione had to wonder what it would have been like to grow up with magical parents. She felt traitorous to her parents to think it, but she couldn't help but wonder what her childhood would have been like if anyone had understood what was going on with her, or even under stood _her_ at all. She had filled her Head of House in position of parent in that fantasy. Now she really felt like a traitor to her parent's memory, as it seemed it would become a belated reality. She knew though, that her parents would want this, someone to look after her that was capable of protecting her, encouraging her and most of all _understanding_ her in ways that they could not. She intuitively felt that they would be ok with this. "What do I have to do… do I have to sign anything?"

Minerva pulled back and smiled while brushing the damp curls from Hermione's face. "Well there are a couple ways to go about it. One involves a ministry official, some vows and a binding, not unlike a marriage I suppose." She hesitated and wonder if she even had the right to suggest the alternative.

"And the other way?" Hermione prompted.

"Well… the other way is a bit more complicated and unique to our situation. It's a blood adoption, where you would become my daughter in every way."

Hermione looked perplexed yet fascinated. "Is it like the Native American blood brother's I've read about? Where a wound is made on both our hands and our bloods mix making us part of each other? Would I retain my memories of my parents?"

"No, and I don't know for sure, but I believe so." Minerva replied.

Hermione for once looked confused. Minerva almost chuckled at the seldom used expression.

"A blood adoption requires much more ritual, much more pain, and much more than a simple mixing of our bloods. It is something that has only ever been done twice before. While I have it on good authority you will retain your memories, they may be dimmed, or feel as though they were a dream or program you watched rather than your own experiences. The data is unclear on that aspect. I honestly have no right to ask you this Hermione, but I will leave it for your consideration anyway. Keep in mind this has no bearing on me wanting to adopt you or become your legal guardian, I will still do it in a heartbeat. But with your affinity for fire, it makes you unique in that you can be 'reborn' as my daughter, as the daughter of my late husband's and I anyway. You'd still retain most of yourself, but you would be changed, your blood would be a mixture of McGonagall and Prewitt." She reached down and clasped her amulet. "Inside is a small amount of my husband's blood." She said with a smile. "When we found out I was barren, we made a pact to adopt. When I became the High Witch of my coven after my mother passed, I happened upon a spellbook that would allow two people to adopt a young witch or wizard with the affinity for fire as a blood relation. This spell would make the child for all intents and purposes, of their flesh and blood. We decided to see if we could find an orphaned child with this extremely rare affinity. As a contingency we gave each other an amulet with a measure of our blood in case anything should happen to us. Ewan died five years later."

It was a lot to take in. The option was intriguing, who didn't at some point wish to be reborn, to have their own burning day and start anew. Hermione knew that she'd need to sleep on it and knew as well that Professor McGonagall wouldn't have a problem with that. "May I have some time to think about it?" she asked anyway.

McGonagall smiled at her. "Of course dear. Now," she said standing, we should get of this cold damp floor and get you dried off and warmed up."

Hermione stood, closed her eyes a moment to mentally shelve her memories, then concentrated on dying off wandlessly. When she started to steam, evaporating the water on her body, McGonagall chuckled and called her a show off. Hermione grinned and follower her mother to be back to her suite where Hermione stayed in a spare room.


End file.
